


All Roads Lead Here

by FlyingNymphLady



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctor!Isaac, Drinking, F/M, Gen, M/M, Motorcycle club, Motorcycles, SOA Themed, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingNymphLady/pseuds/FlyingNymphLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was years ago, but once Isaac had been an eager prospect of the Motorcycle gang, Los Loco Lobos. He'd left that life, left the town after his family was brutally taken from him without warning and the only ones he could blame were the Lobos. <br/>Moving back to the town Isaac's learned to let go of the past or so he thinks. The Lobos on the other hand; they haven't forgotten Isaac. They think he belongs with them and they're willing to make sacrifices to ensure he comes home to the right home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Roads Lead Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/gifts).



> Hello, Hello Arabwel! I'm so excited for you to receive this gift, I hope you enjoy it! When I started this fic I had no idea it'd go this far but I just fell in love with it and it ran away with me. You seem like such an awesome person and I was so happy for the chance to make something for you :) 
> 
> As for the story itself, I ended up with such a big world inside my head for it! As I was writing it there was the premise of the Motorcycle club and I wanted to try and stay true to their world as best I could so there are some term and language in there that might be strange depending on your familiarity with these types of things. You can find the terms here: http://sonsofanarchy.wikia.com/wiki/SOA_Dictionary
> 
> Here are a few I know you're bound to run into:  
> Church - Generally this refers to a scheduled club meeting.  
> Old Lady - Wife or steady girlfriend of a club member. She’s monogamous and has the respect of the other women. There is usually one Queen; the main old lady.  
> Prospect - Someone hopeful for club membership, who rides with the club during a probationary period. A unanimous club vote must be cast by the members for full initiation.
> 
> Los Loco Lobos = Hale/McCall pack  
> Cazadors = Hunters  
> Sangre Demonios = Alpha Pack

It’s the middle of the night when they drag in biker gang leader, Peter Hale. He’s got a gash up his thigh and blood running down his face from road rash. The representative members of  Los Loco Lobos  tell the attending nurse he crashed his bike of I-89 and she rolls her eyes. This has happened before, multiple times. It’s just usually the younger prospects or hang arounds.

 

Lydia’s the one on duty that night but Isaac offers to take the case, asks for it in fact. She gives it to him but she can’t understand why he’d wanted anything to do with the  Lobos after what happened to his brother and father. In fact, she can’t even understand what on god’s green earth brought him back to Beacon Hills in the first place.   sworn his way out of town when he’d left, claiming they wouldn’t ever see his face again. 

 

The surgery’s fairly simplistic, a routine stitch job but Isaac stays with Peter after it’s done, and, dare Lydia say it-- He talks to the president. 

 

Lydia can’t hear what they’re saying but she can see them from the room’s window. Peter looks better without the blood on his face but Lydia still thinks he looks more wolf than man in his countenance. Isaac looks, emotional almost. Lydia considers pulling Isaac out of the room but whatever they’re saying to one and other seems to be helping to mend some broken fences between the two. 

 

It’s almost natural to see a Lahey so close to the  Lobos and that it makes Lydia afraid for Isaac. She doesn’t want him to go down that road. As his friend she doesn’t want to watch him go down that road. But she knows ultimately it’s going to be his decision. She hopes their conversation tonight brings only closure between the  Lobos and Isaac. 

 

Peter’s discharged the next day and Lydia thinks Isaac looks almost sad to see him go. She promises him a special lunch, on her. 

.

.

.

Lydia expresses her concerns at lunch, they’re brief but poignant. It’s a skill Lydia prides herself in. Isaac appreciates them but he doesn’t seem interested in her concerns, assuring her that what happened at the hospital was what she wants to believe it is; closure for Isaac and his lost family. 

 

She accepts what Isaac says but with a grain of salt. She knows how things work around Beacon Hills and she knows when someone lies to her; even unintentionally.

.

.

.

Isaac goes home after his shift exhausted both mentally and physically. He can't quite understand why he asked to treat the Lobos president and so he tries not to think about the fact. Its an impossible goal however, because every room in his house is littered with the  Lobo  insignia. His brother’s patches, his father’s, even some of his mother’s. Every room save his own and Isaac flees to it. He feels surrounded, crowded into a corner. Forced to the one place he can escape it all. The one place that remains untouched by all of it. 

 

He’s been meaning to get rid of them, get rid of their possessions but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to do it. 

 

Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow he'll get rid of all of it. He's said his goodbyes to the  Lobos ; found closure. All the bloody wolf is to him now is an unpleasant memory of his past. He doesn't need the  Lobos  to remember his family. They were more than that.

 

Lydia’s right. He doesn’t need the  Lobos. Last night was it for him and them. It’s over, permanently. 

.

.

.

.

Derek's winching a repo-car to his tow when he hears a loud bang. Gripping the glock he has hidden Derek relaxes his grip when he sees the blown out tire on the road; the unfortunate car rolling to a lopsided stop on the other side of the curb.

 

"Matt," Derek calls to the prospect in the cab and leaves him to deal with the repo. Jogging across the road cautiously Derek is surprised when he sees the Lahey kid exit the car, a string of wholesome swears flowing from his mouth. Derek can't help but chuckle slightly. "Car trouble?"

 

"You must be a mechanic," Isaac responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes notice of Derek's presence but he's too busy to actually register who's standing behind him for several more swears and a couple of kicks to his broken hub.

 

"Oh." 

 

"Oh." Derek parrots back, a small smile hidden beneath his facial hair. He can tell Isaac’s embarrassed by his outburst, embarrassed he didn’t recognize Derek before. Crouching to inspect the broken wheel Derek says,  “Look, we can give you a ride wherever you need to head. No charge.” 

 

“No, no.” Isaac shakes his head, pulling out his phone, “Lyds can give me a ride, she’s on her way to work now. It’s on her way.” 

 

“At least let us fix this then,” Derek says, tapping the roughed up metalwork with a heavy work boot, “She’s not going anywhere on her own.” 

 

“Derek- I don’t want any favors from the  Lobos . We’re not family, not anymore.” Isaac says, his voice tightening a little as he speaks. Derek squints a moment but doesn’t seem to take offense to Isaac’s wish. 

 

“Alright,” Derek says slowly. “We’ll fix it up, as payment for patching up Pete. You won’t owe us anything and we won’t owe you anything. Clean states on both sides.” 

 

A honk bleats from a small, sleek hybrid and Derek sees Lydia Martin, the queen of the hospital, sitting pretty in the driver’s seat. She’s got her glasses hanging off the bridge of her nose and expression on her face he swears she stole from the old ladies of the club. 

 

“Alright… but after this, clean slate.” Isaac says, looking up at Derek with a finality. 

 

Derek holds up his hands in surrender, giving Isaac a cheeky grin, “Clean slate,  Lahey. ”

 

“Shut up,  Hale ,” Isaac bites back. He’s a bad man, a dangerous man but Isaac… Isaac remembers when they were friends. It makes him smile. 

.

.

.

Scott’s getting ready to discharge the vehicle when he notices the black bag in the back. He doesn’t mean to pry into it, he really doesn’t but… their patch, the  club patch , he can see it tossed inside. Opening the garbage bag fills Scott with more questions than he knows what to do with and he calls over the nearest member the  Lobos .

 

Derek’s face grows grim as he sees the contents of the bag and he takes control of it rancorously, storming off to the chapel without a word. Scott wants to know what it means, what it means for who ever owned the patches but he doesn’t dare ask. Not when the VP’s this hostile. 

 

Scott looks for the keys to drive the car out and he realizes Derek’s taken them. He shakes his head and leaves the car where it is. He may be a prospect but he’s clearly got no business in whatever  this  is. This is more than auto or club business; it's personal to Derek and to the older members. Personal indeed.

.

.

.

Derek wants to call a council meeting but Peter won’t allow it. He orders Derek to keep quiet about the bag and let him handle it. Derek isn’t exactly pleased with the president’s decision and he slams the door on his way out, needing the feel of a motor between his thighs. Isaac’s a Lahey, and he’s Derek’s childhood friend. Peter knows it must be hard not to see him with the charter. Perhaps he’ll fix that, Peter thinks, a gift to his nephew.  Los Lobos can always do with new members, especially Laheys. They’re damn fine bikers. 

.

.

.

There's a message on the answering machine when Isaac gets home, courtesy of Lydia. Its from the autoshop; Isaac can pick his car up. Isaac makes a note to look into it tomorrow. Walking through the house he wishes it would feel the way he'd hoped; wishes he didn't feel nostalgic about the missing Lobos print. It would make things easier; for everyone involved. He doesn't want anything to do with  Los Lobos , he just isn't used to the house being this empty. Isaac wonders if that lie can carry him through this heartache.

.

.

.

Boyd's cleaning up the bar when there's a knock on the door. He's surprised to see the familiar face of Isaac, a humbled smile on his face as he stands there, waiting for an invitation. Boyd motions him in, leaning the broom against the island.

 

They embrace, firm pats to the back; the way the club says hello. Boyd doesn't say much and Isaac offers little conversation but neither of them mind, it's always been this way between them. It's comfortable.

 

"Erica said Peter was in the chapel?" 

 

"Yeah," Boyd's voice rumbles, "He's been expecting you."

 

"Thanks man," Isaac says, clasping his arm in appreciation. He heads for the door but stops before he reaches the handle, "Boyd, if you and your old lady wanna get a drink sometime, outside all this, I wouldn't be opposed."

 

"I think my old lady would like that," Boyd says, and begins sweeping the floors once more.

.

.

.

His father and brother's patches are all displayed openly on the chapel's table. Peter's reclining at the head of it, his own jacket sitting on his shoulders like a holy robe. Isaac feels like he’s violating sacred ground by stepping into the room. A room, a religion he’d renowned with a passion.

 

“Some of the boys, found these in your car yesterday afternoon,” Peter says, expelling a cloud of smoke from his lips. Cigars. Peter doesn’t seemed to have changed in the slightest. 

 

“Glad to see your face is healing,” Isaac responses, knowing the game all too well. He’ll have to answer for the trash bag but Peter’s not done speaking. Whatever he says now is just small talk, inconsequential to the big picture. Peter dips his head in acknowledgement.

 

“My VP wanted to call a meeting on this one,” He taps the end of the cigar into a bowl and studies Isaac’s reaction carefully. 

 

“And did you?” Isaac asks boldly. 

 

“Nah,” Peter doesn’t answer right away but then he shakes his head and sits to his full height in the head chair. “But this,” he motions to the table between them, “We need to talk about it.” 

.

.

.

Deaton doesn’t like telling the  Lobos he can’t help them for a time, he’s been patching up those boys since they were no older than teens. One doesn’t have to look hard to see he’s grown fond of them. The whole town has, they keep the peace in Beacon Hills, keep the drugs out of their quiet town when the police can’t.

 

Talia brings her African Grey for it’s check-up but they both know the bird’s in perfect health. She’s there on behalf of the club, the head of the  Lobos ‘old ladies’ and their queen. Deaton gives her a pseudo-prescription for the bird and slips her a note between the forum and the bill. 

 

Talia’s the one who breaks it to the boys. Deaton wants to be the one to tell them but the AFI have multiple eyes on him and god knows what else. All he can do is stay away from the  Lobos and tell the good agents what he tells everyone, he’s just a veterinarian and the  Lobos are just motorcycle enthusiasts. Neither side believes what he says but they don’t have two, the AFI aren’t the only one’s who know how to play it by the book. They all know the agents have jack on the  Lobos  and it’s killing them. 

 

Hopefully the boys don’t get into any major accidents they can’t bring to the hospital because they’ll be on their own. Deaton can’t patch them up any more. 

.

.

.

Scott finds Derek on the cliffs overlooking the town, beer in his hand. He may not believe any of this is his business but he knows Derek could use a friend to talk to about, whatever is going on. 

 

Scott hasn’t been in town as long as most of the members and prospects have. In fact he’s downright new to all of this. 

 

The members tell him he’s coming along nicely though, at least that’s what he likes to think they’re telling him. They’re good guys, the  Lobos , but they’re not about their feelings. Scott’s well enough off regardless, teased because his father’s on the side of the law, but the  Lobos are more of a family to him than his own pop. 

 

He owes them, owes Derek the same comradeship. Derek might talk to him or he might not. A brother won’t force another but Scott hopes he’ll say something. This bag thing is messing with his head something fierce. 

 

Derek passes him the bottle and Scott drinks generously. 

.

.

.

Malia helps her father with his bandages, the gash on his leg isn’t life threatening but she insists on attending to it. She know’s he’d forget to on his own. 

 

The stitching looks a little stretched but she’s seen Peter do far worse to his dressings before and she’s relieved he’s taking these ones easy. 

 

They stay in for dinner and Peter teaches Malia a thing or two about cooking steak the ‘right’ way. Malia thinks he’s being ridiculous and she laughs as he attempts to train her in the ‘Hale art’ of cooking. Her laugh becomes contagious when he brings up what he thinks of her mother’s cooking. Even Malia admits it’s something less than appetizing, more often than not. 

 

It’s a quiet night for the  Locos Lobos   president and his daughter, quiet enough not to last. But they’ve both learned to take what they can get. 

.

.

.

“He’s still got his hide?” Derek asks, ungloving his hands, his bike rumbling to a standstill. 

 

"Yep," Peter's leaning against the garage, unabashed by his nephew's notoriously moody disposition. Derek purses his lips and stands in front of Peter, his knuckles on his sides. 

 

"-Jesus," Derek breathes out, finding a seat on a pile of tires beside his uncle. He removes his shades to grip the bridge of his nose, "Why the fuck not?"

 

"You know why not," Peter says plainly, as if the answer should be as obvious to everyone else. He lights up a cigar, dragging on it deeply.

 

"He's not family anymore Pete," Derek growls.

 

"He is dammit!" Peter roars back with just as much fury, "And you should treat him like it,  brother."

 

Derek lets the air leave his lungs, his body sagging into the tires below him. He knows, they all know. 

 

"Look," Peter's voice is rasped. What he has to say is important, Derek can see it in the way his countenance has grown grim, "This isn't just about our debt to the family or to his mother. We ain't got a doc to patch up our... friendly wounds anymore and that  kid ," he pats his injured leg, "Did a damn fine job on mine in the hospital."

 

Derek rocks on the tires, weighing his next few words. He has to choose between avenging the disrespect shown to the patch and the need of the family. It’s a lot to weigh and were it anyone else they wouldn’t be having this conversation, it’d already be a done deal. But Isaac’s father and Camden; they were both club members and Isaac’s got a set of skills they’re desperately in need of…

 

“Alright,” Derek huffs, “Alright. The good of the club comes first.” 

 

Peter smile molds around his cigar smugly, “Knew you’d see it my way. Still, I told him to avoid you for a few days; just in case.” 

 

“Fair enough,” Derek says, punching his uncle in the shoulder without any real force. 

 

The  Lobos president lets out a hearty laugh and shoves his VP back affectionately. 

.

.

.

They announce their plans for the new doc at the next church meeting. Without actually telling Isaac of course. The club has to vote before the motion can be brought before the nurse. 

 

Some of the members seem hesitant, mostly the younger members. They’ve never met the boy, don’t understand what he already knows. Isaac may not think he wants the club but he  needs them. Whether he knows it or not. Peter’s suspicions were confirmed during their talk the other day. 

 

Derek backs the motion and that convinces a majority of the younger members. He may not have quite forgiven his old friend for disrespecting the patch but he’s not dumb, he knows what’s best for all of them. 

 

Isaac belongs with them, he may not have his family anymore but he still has  this family. 

.

.

.

“Alright, alright,” Laura calls to the crowd in the living room, “Everyone to the table. C’mon, we’ve worked real hard on this. Slaved ourselves away for you boys, so you’d better damn well enjoy it.”

 

The crowd laughs as they shuffle their way in, trickling into subfamilies as they arrange themselves around the large oak dining table. There’re the newly added McCalls, the Boyds, the Reyes, and of course the Hales amongst the swarm of people. 

 

Laura shoves her way into a sit between her brother and sister. They’re of a similar age and they’re all grown up together amidst this, amidst  Los Loco Lobos . It’s the only life Laura has ever known and when she thinks about it, it’s really the only one she wants. 

 

Someday she plans to be someone’s old lady, perhaps the next president’s. She’s her own woman, don’t get her wrong but that doesn’t mean she can’t have a member on her arm as well.

 

Her mother, her father, and her uncle built this club from the ground up with their friends from back in the day. They lost brothers, spilt blood to protect their claim; but ultimately they gave their families a good, safe life. Laura’s beginning to look toward the future, toward her future, and she knows this is what she wants. The  Lobos  are family, all of them. And the family looks out for one and other. 

 

Laura sees her mother give Peter a kiss on the cheek and waits expectantly as Talia makes her way down the line of Hales, adorning them each with a sign on her affection. Once she’s seated and the food’s been placed the communion can begin. 

 

There’s interesting talk at the table and it doesn’t take Laura long to catch wind of the topic. 

 

“Isaac? Lahey?” The question goes to her brother and he nods quietly, passing the potatoes she asked for. “Since when is he back in town?” 

 

Derek shrugs, “Since he fixed up Peter at the hospital…”

 

“Did he come to the group or…” 

 

Derek’s brow furrows and he finally looks in the eyes, “He’s been ‘round, we thought we’d offer him a spot in the family again.” 

 

“Oh,” Laura responds. The way he says it, it doesn’t sound like the offer’s very optional. Most of the other members are oblivious to the siblings’ conversation. Laura’s glad, she doesn’t want to worry anyone. Her family would never go  too far to rekindle the brotherhood. They just have a promise to keep, and it’s one that’s hard to forget. Not when the Laheys gave them so much. 

Laura looks to her uncle and she sees the debt on his face, the scars from the incident. Without the Laheys, there never would have been a  Lobos club to start.

.

.

.

Lydia can tell something's going on with Isaac. It's not just the car, it’s the club. Its starting to tear him up inside.  She's seen it before, not just in Isaac, but in others with biker blood in their veins. She doesn't want to admit it but she knows the Lobos mean well for him, at least in their hearts.

 

The question is, what's best for Isaac?

 

He swore he was done with that life but the longer he stays in Beacon the harder it gets for Lydia to believe it.

.

.

.

 

The  Cazadors  are making a gun drop when they’re jumped by the  Sangre Demonios . The  Cazadors  drag their leader into the  Lobos  getaway van, leaving the guns to the ambush gang. All sides know the  Demonios  have the advantage, better to cut their losses now than after they’ve lost good men.

 

Boyd and Derek carry the bleeding Argent into their back room, the man between them groaning in pain as he fights to stay conscious. Hauling him onto the table it doesn’t take the club long to decide they can’t handle this wound on their own. They need Deaton but he’s not going to help them; he can’t. Not with the AFI watching him.

 

Derek looks to Peter and they both know who he's going to call. They haven't approached Lahey yet, haven't gotten the club's vote or Isaac's word but Chris is bleeding bad and the  Lobos  can't have the leader of the  Cazador's  dying on their front doorstep. 

 

Derek nods and Peter leaves to make the call.  Sometimes executive decisions need to be made for the good of the club. Derek hopes this is one of those decisions.

.

.

.

“An Argent?!” Isaac stops in surprise. When he’d gotten the call he’d debated picking up the phone but he’d let his worry of Peter’s wounds get the best of him. Grabbing the president’s arm Isaac pulls them out of the room, “I thought the  Cazadors wanted the  Lobos dead. You didn’t do this to him did you?” 

 

“No,” Peter makes sure Isaac’s looking him in the eyes and he repeats himself, his voice clear and unwavering, “No. We don’t shoot our enemies in the ass kid. The SD attacked us during, business negotiations.” 

 

“I’m guessing these ‘negotiations’ weren’t about motorcycles…” Isaac sighs and shakes his head, “Christ Peter. I donated those patches to the club for a reason. I don’t want anything more to do with this. I told you that. Told Derek that.”

 

“You did. But you’re still here aren’t you?” Peter smiles. 

 

“I thought you were calling me about your stitches. Not  Cazadors. ” Isaac hisses back, afraid if he talks in a regular voice he might yell. 

 

“Are you gonna let him die?” Peter asks calmly. 

 

“... No,” Isaac grumbles, removing his coat and shoving it into Peter’s arms, “Have someone get me some more wraps and some water. And Peter? Make sure they don’t steal them.” 

.

.

.

“So,” Chris grunts in pain as Isaac feels for the stray bullet, “‘m I gonna die?” 

 

“No, not today,” Isaac responds faintly, distracted by his search. One misstep and he’ll have this man’s ass spurt  blood all over the room. “If you keep moving though…” 

 

“Sorry,” Chris pants, “Don’t usually get bullets up there. Quite painful.” 

 

Isaac looks up from his work and contemplates the man’s he’s operating on for a moment. He doesn’t seem like a bad man, despite his profession, and in a way he reminds him of his own father back in the day. “...Drink more alcohol, it’ll help numb it.” He says softer and returns to searching for the bullet. The man’s lucky it hit his right cheek and didn’t land a major artery. 

 

“Will do Doc,” The Argent chuckles and takes a deep swig. 

.

.

.

“He’ll live,” Isaac states as he emerges from the back room, wiping the blood from his hands with an old greaser rag. His clothes are ruined Isaac surmises mournfully, he’d been mildly attached to that shirt. 

 

The members of the club are sitting around various tables in the bar, their backs adorn with the bloody wolf's head of the  Lobos and their insignia.

 

“Got the bullet out?” Asks a kid from behind the bar, his back is still barren of the wolf but ordained instead with his title, ‘prospect’. 

 

All faces turned to listen to their new doc and a cheer erupts when he tells them the Argent’s ass is bullet free. Boyd clasps his shoulder and brings him in for a brotherly hug which Isaac accepts tiredly. The bullet is out but it took its sweet time, Isaac had one hell of a time getting it but he doesn't tell the lobos that. They're happy, celebrating. Isaac is reminded of his own memories of the club and he thinks these were some of the best times he spent in this building.

 

Isaac sees Derek standing in the back and he watches him curiously, cautiously. He knows he really hurt his old friend with the trash bag stint. He shouldn't have done it, Isaac knows how offensive it was to the club but, in the spur of the moment it'd seemed the thing to do.

 

Derek seems to have cooled off considerably since the incident. Peter had warned his nephew might be harboring a grudge and Isaac was inclined to believe him. He’d seen Derek’s brooding nature in the prime of their youth and Isaac doubts it’s gotten any better with the club’s influence. He’s a good man no doubt but Derek also has his flaws too. 

 

Derek seems to be over them for the moment and he nods his head with a smile. Isaac nods back and knows he’s a lucky man to know such a forgiving club. He accepts the beer passed to him but doesn’t drink much of it before deciding to head out, he’s got to get some sleep before his next shift at the hospital. 

 

In all the chaos Isaac had almost forgot to call Lydia when he got home. She had a mouthful to say about that. 

.

.

.

Allison Argent visits her father at the  Lobos in-house ‘hospital’. She’s not very savvy with the politics of her father’s world but she’s got her own special talents and a strong bout of determination to go alongside them. She steps into the Hales’ auto shop with as much authority as she muster and asks the woman at the front desk for information. 

 

The woman, a blonde bombshell, is rather skeptical about Allison’s claims and feigns having any knowledge of the  Cazadors  leader. 

 

Allison commends her acting skills internally with a bitter taste in her mouth but she doesn’t give up easily. She’s quite confident they know where he is and Allison refuses to be turned away by semantics and disbelief in the truth. The blonde’s not the only one who can act. 

 

She steps out into the garage yard and yells, loudly. And it’s not just the club members that hear her. It’s the hang-arounds, the patrons of the auto shop; and it’s startling for most of them. The blonde drags her back into the office with a hurried tap in her heels and calls her foolish but Allison’s not, she’s smart. 

 

Three men in leather vests approach the office and she recognizes one of them as the president of the  Lobos . She’s not the only one to recognize a familiar face though and Peter graciously offers her an escort to her father’s bedside. She feels a little smug as she leaves the blonde’s office but she tries not to let it affect her too drastically. Luckily the prospect Peter offers as an escort is charming, Allison particularly likes his slanted jaw. 

.

.

.

Erica pouts as the Argent girl leaves her office and Boyd nods to Peter who politely leaves the room without comment. Gathering up his beautiful blonde Boyd holds her to his chest and gently runs his hand up and down her back, soothingly. 

 

She’s not upset because the brunette bested her, that’d be far too plain for his little she-wolf. She’s upset because she knows she allowed the club to be embarrassed by the girl’s commotion. Erica owes much to the club, her whole life it seems like sometimes. 

 

The  Los Loco Lobos took her family in and gave them enough money for the down payment on their first home, they helped pay for her outstanding medical bills, and they gave her Boyd in a way. The  Lobos weren’t just a motorcycle club to Erica, they were her family. A family she was grateful of and proud to be in. 

 

Boyd kisses her temple and soothes her with the soft rumble of his voice which whispers reassuring thoughts to her. He doesn't blame her and she’s relieved.

 

Finally recomposed, Erica places a tender, thankful kiss on her boyfriend’s lips and carefully wipes the devilish red lipstick away with her thumb. 

 

If there’s one thing a Reyes knows how to do, it’s walk it off and Erica is no exception. She’s shed her tears but now she’s done. She’s got work ahead of her and she won’t have it waiting on her account. 

 

Erica’s not the queen of the biker club but she’s learned quite a few lessons in strength from Mrs. Hale. The women hold the men together, their rough ‘n tough men. That’s what the old ladies do, they’re the foundation of the  Lobos. The heart of the family. And the heart has to stay strong. That’s what a heart does. And Erica is no exception.

.

.

.

Isaac doesn’t want to let her come but he’s not very convincing at saying no and Lydia’s already in the car when he get to the parking lot. 

 

They drive to the club in a molt of silent and small talk. Lydia’s not avoiding a confrontation, she’s nothing that kind of woman. She’s too busy thinking. 

 

Isaac seems more alive now than in all the time he’s been back in Beacon Hills, like something within him is finally being filled. The  Lobos has a dangerous way of life but it’s also thrilling in a way Lydia understands all too well. She contemplates the pros and cons of Isaac’s choices. It's becoming more and more obvious by the day that he’s returning to the  Lobos , whether he chooses to deny it or not. 

 

Lydia wonders if the hole he’s filling in his heart will stay that way once he’s been fully reunited with the club and it’s ways. They claim to be a family often enough, she hopes they care for him like one. 

.

.

.

Allison starts when the door opens, and her hand falls beside the pistol hidden under her father’s stomach. She doesn’t have to be afraid. It’s just the prospect, Scott, with two doctors, one of whom saved his father’s life.

 

She gives them all the best smile she can, convinced she must look like a zombie queen with her tear-swollen eyes and running make-up. The redheaded doctor looks the girl over once, and sweeps around the table, taking her hand gently but firmly and leading her toward the exit. 

 

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s take some girl time while my colleague checks in on your father,”

 

Allison isn’t sure at first but Scott nods to her supportively and she follows the woman. Something about the prospect and he’s lop-sided smile... It makes her trust him though he’s just a stranger to her.

 

“Alright,”

 

"Your jacket is absolutely killer," Lydia comments as they leave the room, “Where’d you get it?”

 

“My mom,” Allison smiles nervously, “She works for a boutique on the coast.” 

.

.

.

“Like I said before Mr. Argent,” Isaac tells the room, smoothing over the bandage he’s replaced with a few rough brushes of his fingers, “You’re going to be perfectly fine soon enough. Though I wouldn’t recommend sitting on it for a little while, certainly not until the swelling goes down.” 

 

“Thank you son, really. It means a lot, especially with my daughter here,” Chris smiles and shakes his hand gratefully when Isaac rounds the table’s edge to face him. 

 

Isaac accepts the handshake with a small sense of embarrassment. He’s never been good at accepting gratitude from his patients or their families. 

 

“Take the compliment kid, you did good,” Chis barks, a raspy laugh escaping his compressed lungs. 

“You’re welcome  Cazador ,” Isaac can’t help but smile at the man, who, laying on his stomach with a bullet wound in his ass cheek; still found time for humor. 

.

.

.

“You should come,” Peter says with a puff of his cigar. 

 

“Oh?” Isaac raises a brow to the president, rinsing his hands of the ointment he’d finished putting on his ‘special’ patient. “And what business would I have at a club party?”

 

“C’mon Isaac, we both know what,” Peter motions the air with cigar, as if representing the idea with the gesture of his hand-- as if the concept was just out of verbal reach, “Besides this isn’t just a party for the  Cazadors and the  Lobos . It’s for you too.”

 

“Me?” Isaac raises a second brow as he reaches around Peter for the drying cloth. 

 

“You did patch up their leader kid, and me,” Peter gesture to his pant leg, “It’s the least we could do.”

 

“Mm hm, I’m sure that’s what it was,” Isaac rolls his eyes and tosses the cloth into Peter’s chest. 

.

.

.

“I want to go,” Lydia says simply. 

 

Isaac glances at her in surprise but i forced to revert his gaze to the road quickly, “You do?”

 

“I do. So pick me up on your way there,” 

 

“I never said I was going,” Isaac responds fairly, making a left into the hospital’s employee parking lot. 

 

“Look Isaac,” Lydia sighs and rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated by the thought having to explain yet another thing to her brilliantly dull colleague, “Allison’s father may be out of the woods but I get the feeling she’s still pretty vulnerable right now and could use a friend.” 

 

“You? A friend?” Isaac eyes her again sceptically and laughs when she tosses the body of her purse in his direction. 

 

“I’m yours, aren’t I you dope?” Lydia says, a slight blush on her cheeks and he can tell he’s embarrassed her ever so slightly. 

 

“You said on my way there?” Isaac offers as he pulls to a stop in front of her SUV. 

 

Lydia smiles at him, adorning his cheek with a light lipstick stain as she gives him a grateful hug. “And don’t be late,” She warns slipping from his passenger seat. 

.

.

.

Booze, women, brotherly competition, and the great outdoors of the auto-shop yard. It’s a made paradise for the bikers of the  Lobos   and  Cazadors and they’re celebrating it with everything in them. It’s nearly impossible to find a man sitting without a girl in his lap, and equally as hard to find one that's not at least halfway drunk.

 

Boyd's cradling his old lady in his lap, enjoying the attention she's giving him. It’s the light play of her fingers on his scalp, the little things she chooses to whisper in his ear that have him humming in contentment. She doesn’t drink, can't because of her condition, but she amuses herself discussing the antics of the drunks around her. Boyd chuckles out loud every so often, enjoying Erica's commentary and the buzz he's developed. He once worried she'd  think lesser of him for it, feel left out if he participated in the activity but Erica assures she's comfortable with it. She's not an unreasonable old lady, she knows Boyd loves her unconditionally she doesn't need his sobriety to prove that.

 

In fact, she finds it cute when he becomes a little tipsy. Her tipsy giant.

.

.

.

Isaac feels foolish showing up with a pack of beers when there are more than enough kegs to go around but the club members accept them favorably regardless. Lydia smiles charmingly to all the men and they fall at her feet but Isaac knows none of them will have her tonight, not unless she desires them. They’ve unwittingly fallen prey to the fiery redhead. 

 

“You made it,” Derek comments, the inkling of a smile beneath his facial hair. 

 

“I was told it’d be quite the affair,” Isaac walks alongside Derek, briefly watching Lydia disappear into the crowd with a sense of fascination. He is force to slip around a drunken biker and his woman when they cut between them, “And I gotta say, the  Lobos don’t disappoint.”

 

“ Cazadors too,” Derek replies, passing him a bottle of their own family brew. 

 

“Looks almost like a patch-over,” 

 

“Nah,” Derek shakes his head and pops the top off of his own bottle with his pocket knife. He takes a brief sip, “Not tonight.”

 

“Just a pair of motorcycle enthusiasts?” Isaac eyes his old friend with a cynical look, bumbling into his shoulder faintly. 

 

Derek agrees with a hum and the two sink into their drinks for a time. It’s the first time Isaac’s spent time with his old friend without out a prospect patch and it feels odd, off in a way. They both had wanted to to be  Lobos but Derek had actually followed through with the dream. He was the club’s VP. What was Isaac though? 

 

He’d left Beacon after the incident, sworn off the club and yet here he was; right back where he’d started. He was just playing a different role than he’d expected. 

.

.

.

Allison's enchanting tonight and Scott finds himself completely taken with her. It not just her looks that have captivated him but the funny, good-natured person she reveals herself to be.

 

Scott decides to impress her and he steps into the fight ring with a fellow prospect, taking away the victory despite a few solid punches to his own gut. Derek breaks them up when the older members of the club decide to end the fight and the boys hug it out. It helps to ensure no one walks away from the ring with hurt feelings or grudges.

 

Allison's surprised but delighted that Scott takes the victory and she places a kiss on his cheek, brushing across his lips, and blushes as she pulls back slightly.

 

Both are so wrapped up in the other that Scott almost misses Erica's approach but he catches the flash on blonde hair in the crowd and gently untangles himself from his enchanting beauty, allowing herself her own space to confront Boyd's old lady.

 

Erica's lips are pursed in a thin line as she comes to a halt in front of the pair, her studded heels giving her an intimidating appearance. 

 

“Here,” She extends her left arm forward, a bottle in it. 

 

Allison’s brows furrow and she looks to Scott, at lost with the gesture. Scott nods encouragingly and Allison takes the bottle from the blonde with a small smile, “Thanks.” 

 

“Don’t mention it,” Erica spins on her heels, her hair whirling into an undefinable blur of gold. She makes her way back to her gentle giant and Allison watches her carefully, her fingers tapping curiously against the bottle she’s been given. 

 

“It’s a gift,” Scott explains, gripping the neck of it and popping the lid off, “A peace offering. I’m actually surprised she forgave you so easily…” 

 

Allison smiles and turns back to Scott, taking a tentative sip of the bottle. She’s had alcohol but this one packs one hell of a punch. She coughs slightly and Scott chuckles quietly, attempting to recompose his expression as her gaze falls upon him.

 

He looks ridiculous. Allison can't help but laugh and all too soon they're lost to the throws of their laughter.

.

.

.

“Seen Peter?” 

 

Boyd turns his gaze from the lovely view of Erica’s approach and notices Isaac standing in beside the couch. He’s looking more than a bit drunk.

 

“Yeah, down by the fights. He was regulating them a while a ago,” Boyd motions with his far arm. Isaac grins sloppily and Boyd shakes his head, pushing Isaac idly with a boot. The curly haired Lahey stumbling a bit but laughing as he goes. 

 

He reminds Boyd of Camden in a way, full of life and liquor. His brother had been the life of the party back in his day, been a damned fine friend and brother too. It was a harsh blow to the club, losing him the way they did. 

 

Boyd runs a hand over his scalp and blows out a breath. He hasn’t thought about Camden in quite a time. Not seriously. He must have drank more than he’d thought.

 

Looking back in Erica’s direction he sees her approaching and his lips spread back into a welcoming smile. 

.

.

.

 

"You did it?"

 

"I did it," Erica groans, sinking into Boyd's beckoning arms. He kisses her scrunched up nose rubs her arms as she wriggles into his lap. 

 

"Proud of you," 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” She rolls her eyes and taps her lips with a painted nail, “Give your momma some more of your sugar. She’s been a good girl tonight.” 

 

“Anything you want darlin’,” 

 

Erica lets the burden of grudge go, she has a feeling that the Argent girl won’t be leaving anytime soon. Not this the way the prospect’s treating her and if Erica’s being honest, she admires the girl in a way. Allison had balls walking into the  Lobos territory the way she did… Still, Allison doesn’t need to know she’s impressed Erica. Not tonight. It might give her a bigger head than Erica wants. 

 

Boyd’s lips taste like beer and Erica smiles into them pleased. 

.

.

.

Peter wakes to the morning light, not because he wants to but because the light’s painfully penetrating his closed eyes. He groans and rolls away from the sun, his hand landing on a slab of flesh with a pleasing slap. Peter grins but doesn’t open his eyes, messaging it appreciatively.

 

His partner of the night rolls and Peter’s hand travels up their side, reaching for their supple bosom. There isn’t one. Regretfully Peter pries open an eye,

 

“Aw sheat,” He groans, letting his hand go limp.

 

“Morning to you too asshole,” Isaac mumbles, tugging the sheets around his face to protect it from the streaming light of day.

.

.

.

Her father’s not home when she gets back in, no one is. Placing her running shoes by the door, Malia doesn’t bother with common decency and she removes her shirt and pants as she walks to the kitchen.

 

There’s a message on the answering machine, an invitation from her aunt to join the family for breakfast. Malia thinks about joining the boys at the club but she’s got work and she doesn’t want to risk losing track of time. It’s something that tends to happen when the family gets together, especially after a ‘get together’.

 

She calls  Laura, her aunt, and a few others before pulling out her father's address book and punching in the numbers of the new doc.

 

"Hey? Hi. This is Malia, Peter's daughter?" The voice that answers sounds hungover and she adjusts her own to a soothing roll, "I figured you'd be down at the auto-shop this morning. Can you check-in on my Dad's stitches? When you see him-- when he's got a moment? Just be sure he doesn't duck you. Thanks, Isaac. Alright, thanks."

 

Malia tucks her clothes and her father's under one arm and heads out of the kitchen. She trusts the doctor'll take good care of her father, he seems like a very competent man from what she's heard over dinner.

.

.

.

"That was your daughter," Isaac groans, his phone falling off the side of the bed. He doesn’t attempt to recover it.

 

Peter runs his hand over his face, trying to ignore the pounding headache in his temple. He doesn’t want to think about anything at the moment,but since when has the world ever cared about that, “What’d she want?” 

 

“Make sure I took a look at your leg today,” Isaac answers, snuggling further into the lumpy pillow, ignoring the urges of his body to rise for the new day. He never thought he’d appreciate one of the bar’s back rooms so much in his life. 

 

“Well, it’s right here. Check it,” Peter’s voice rumbles across from him but his body doesn’t move.

 

“Fuck you,” Isaac presents Peter his middle finger, smiling into the depths of the pillow, “I’m sleeping. You bring it to me.” 

 

“Apparently I’ve already done that today,” Peter says and peaks at the doc from under his arm. Still there, content as could be. Peter scrubs his face a few times before finally caving to the inevitability of the morning. With a sigh Peter lets his hand fall on Isaac’s ass with a smack and he’s delighted to hear Lahey yelp, “C’mon kid, rise and shine. We got stuff to do.”

 

Isaac doesn’t want to admit it but Peter’s probably right. There’s always something more to be done around here it seems. He should probably deal with whatever happened between him and Peter as well. Then again, neither of them seem eager to talk and at the moment, that seems fine to Isaac. Leave the messy stuff for when he can actually function properly again. 

.

.

.

Derek’s surprised to see Isaac coming round the club so often but he’s pleased to have his friend back again. Sometimes they talk together over the bikes in the shop (Isaac’s still quite the avid fan) and Derek watches him drool in envy, but most of the time Derek observes Isaac busying himself around the shop; finding excuses just to be around. 

 

He officially clears Chris to leave ‘hospital  Lobos’ and Derek wonders if he’ll start to see less of the good doc. He doesn’t, if anything Isaac’s presence only grows at the club. 

 

It’s strange but Derek’s growing accustomed to it, the entire club is. Peter seems to have kept his promise to them, the Laheys have returned to the club, just as he’d said they would. Derek’s hesitant but he feels a sense of gratitude to the president. he’s missed his old friend.

.

.

.

The  Los Loco Lobos have a church meeting to discuss their problems. The AFI is of course on the top of the list. As gunmen for a large amount of factions in the area the  Lobos have had the spotlight on them a number of times and they’re not afraid of it this time to be sure. They’re expert performers. 

 

What does call cause for concern is the heavy lean the AFI have placed on their old doctor. The club agrees they did the right thing voting in Isaac as a substitute but there’s a motion put forward to enroll his help on a more permanent basis. There are few complaints and the motion carries.

 

Still, the club doesn’t feel right right leaving Deaton for the feds to play with and they devise a strategy to get their guns out of Beacon Hills and take the heat off their old doc. 

 

Everyone loves a good charity blood drive right?

.

.

.

Isaac steps up to the door but he never gets a chance to knock. From the other side the door is pulled open and a middle aged woman stands in front of him, her hand still on the knob. She calls back into the house for Malia, her keys jangling softly on her thumb. 

 

Isaac knows her from back in the day, she’s older but even with the blonde highlights and tinted sunglasses he can tell it’s Kate; Malia’s mother. And Peter’s ex by extension. He feels his face flare slightly as her eyes fall upon him. 

 

“Well, well,” Kate says, sliding the shades down the bridge of her nose, giving Isaac a calculated evaluation with a set of smokey eyes, “If it isn’t the little Lahey kid? I heard you're a big doctor now.”

 

Isaac feels his skin creep underneath, her smile reminding him of a hungry cougar. He responds with a tight smile of his own and his hand comes behind his head, grabbing the hair nervously. Malia appears behind Kate with her father and saves the pair, or rather saves Isaac, from further conversation. 

 

Peter and Kate share a look between them but Malia doesn’t seem to notice it. Isaac does though. 

 

Kate doesn’t seem bothered by Peter’s gaze but she follows Malia toward the car, laughing as she pauses beside Isaac for a moment. 

 

Leaning on him Kate smiles smugly and stage whispers, “Go play with your patient Doc,”

 

Isaac clenches as a hand comes down on his unsuspecting ass, his cheeks even redder than before. Peter rolls his eyes at his ex and waves farewell to his daughter.

 

The two men stand together on the porch and watch as the catty tears down the road. Isaac shrugs off Peter’s hand but the older man slides it around his waist and Isaac leans into him with a sigh.

.

.

.

“What’re we doing Pete?” 

 

“Resting, fucking,”Peter hums, running his hand sleepily along Isaac’s stomach. 

 

“Cute,” Isaac rolls his eyes, his hands propped behind his head as he thinks. Peter sighs and turns to gaze at Isaac, wondering just where he's going with this conversation.

 

"Are you unhappy with that?"

 

"Not unhappy with it," Isaac tilts his gaze upon Peter, "Just wondering if I'm wasting my time here."

 

Peter faces the ceiling again, shifting his legs underneath the covers. He's thinking, forcing his mind to weigh the depth of Isaac's comment for a while. "You're not," He answers finally.

 

"I'll never be your old lady," Isaac points out serenely. He runs his palm down Peter's arm, working their fingers together. Isaac's not mad, or hurt, but he refuses to be strung along. Whatever they're doing, they won't be able to keep it quiet forever. And it’s better they know what’s going on now. 

 

“I didn’t know you wanted to be,” Peter chuckles, “You got something you ain’t telling me there?” 

 

“No, no,” Isaac smiles faintly, rubbing his thumb over Peter’s hand soothingly, “Nothing like that. I just can’t be a throw away Peter. I won’t be a dirty secret. I’m worth more than that.” 

 

“So ride with us,” Peter shrugs, elaborating when Isaac gives him a particular look, “Next weekend. Come on the drive. Honorary member for the weekend. Nothing official.” 

 

“Wait a minute, where a drive next weekend?” Isaac rolls onto his side, a hand now on Peter’’s chest. 

 

“Yeah kid, how’d you miss it?” 

 

Isaac lets his head fall on Peter’s shoulder, a small laugh escaping him as he realizes how unobservant he’s been. Isaac hasn’t hardly had a free moment in a while, working at the hospital and spending time with the  Lobos . He should have taken some time to actually notice what they were getting up too. 

 

“You’re not planning on riding are you?” Isaac asks, his face recomposed into a puzzled countenance. 

 

“My patch does say president Isaac,” 

 

Isaac won’t be deterred by semantics, he knows Peter’s not fit for a charity drive, “You can’t, you’re leg can’t take driving all that way on your own.” 

 

“And what’s your solution doc?” Peter asks, humored by the young doctor’s concerns. 

 

Isaac looks into his blue eyes confidently, “I’ll drive us,” 

 

“You’ll drive us? On a motorcycle?” Peter’s brow raises. This is just good enough for him to say yes. Even though it'll mean he has to ride in the bitch seat, it'd be worth it to see Isaac out on the open road again. Where he belongs.   


.

.

.

Isaac hasn’t touched his old biker in almost six years. The cover’s dusty but the bike itself is just as beautiful as he remembers it. Running a hand reverently down the body of the motorcycle Isaac feels the nostalgia hit him like a wave. He and this bike had had big plans once,  he’d had big plans once. Before he’d up and left all those years ago.

 

The texture of the metal feels right under his fingers and Isaac tentatively runs his hand up the handles, like he’s caressing an old lover. 

 

“Hey baby,” He hums quietly, “Miss me?”’

 

His gaze travels over the bike to the far wall and he notices the two vests hanging there. His mouth is dry as he approaches them but Isaac knows he can’t hide from them, can’t hide from the truth. 

 

Running a hand over Camden’s old vest he traces the triskellion in the background, moving his fingers over the wolf in the front, it’s fierce snarl staring defiantly. 

 

‘We use the wolf Isaac, you know why?’ 

 

Isaac shook his head, he hadn’t back then. 

 

‘The wolf hunts in a pack, they live for their pack and die by them. That’s what we do.’

 

‘Me too, me too.’ Isaac’s younger voice had cried in excitement. 

 

‘One day, Little bro. One day.’

 

That day had never come. The jacket feels right on Isaac’s shoulder though and for a moment he wonders what might have been… 

.

.

.

The  Lobos cheer as the old bike rolls into the shop’s yard, their president on the back. There’s a good deal to be said about it and quite a few jokes to be made but ultimately the club comes to accept the nontraditional manner in which their president intends to travel. Course, that doesn’t mean they’re not going to make their fair share of jokes along the way. But they’re still behind their president, he can still ride, just not this ride. 

 

It feels oddly uplifting to Isaac, he knows the  Lobos  could have turned their backs on Peter. A president that can’t ride isn’t fit to be president, club rules. But the family’s stronger than that and means something fierce to them. 

 

The club plans to roll out with the vans, the cages filled with the supplies that the bikes can’t carry on the road. Isaac notices many of the bikers sporting extra sleeping bags but he doesn’t question it, too eager to get back on the road and wise enough to know it’s better not asking. 

 

The road’s calling to Isaac, urging him to rev the beast beneath him and just take off. It’s a sorely tempting offer but he waits painstakingly. Finally, after what seems like an age, Peter climbs back onto the bike, and straps on a helmet. 

 

Derek grins to them and fires to blanks into the air, rallying the men onto their own rides. 

 

“Let’s go save some children,” Peter hollers and Isaac pushes off the ground with anticipation, spurring the old bike into action. The rumble between his thighs is like a rejuvenating pulse. He feels free of it all, all his responsibilities to the hospital, his home life, everything. 

 

For a moment in time it’s just him, his bike, and Peter. Nothing more. 

 

There’s still going to be the hospital when he gets back to Beacon, he’s still going to have to deal with his past, and he’s going to have to find a balance for himself in this new life he’s creating for himself. He loves his job healing people but he can't deny this part of him, not anymore. For now though, he’s happy.    
  


Happier than he’s been in a long time.    
  


And, Isaac thinks, it’s thanks to the club. Thanks to Peter. 

.

.

.

 

\- End -  


**Author's Note:**

> And that's the end, for now :) I really hope you enjoyed this story throughout, I know I enjoyed making it. I really impressed myself with how I thought this one turned out and it's all thanks to you for inspiring me. 
> 
> As you can see it's rather open ended. I ended up having so much come to me in terms of ideas and each time I thought I was coming to a good close in the story something else would pop into my head and I'd be off on that arch. I tried to include and tie all of my thoughts together but if something slipped through the cracks or/and you're just curious to know more feel free to message me any time! This has been such a fun experience, I'd even love to write more of these characters sometime.


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